Short Term?
by WarnedBeYou
Summary: "What year is it?" The boy asked me, and I frowned at him. "It's 1991." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Hermione, it's 1996." I lay back down on the cushions. I had a five year gap in my memory. Would I ever get it back?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Eyes Open

I woke with a start. The pain shot through me as though my chest was on fire. I lay back down, scared of making a sound and attracting attention. As I looked around the dark room, I noticed a high ceiling, and a lot of beds. It looked as though I was in some sort of hospital set in the Natural History museum. Confused, I tried my luck again at sitting up. The pain shot through me again, so I gave up and lay back down. I wondered how I had got there, and why I was in so much pain.

"Hey, you're awake!" A voice whispered from my right, and I looked round quickly. A boy was staring at me: I couldn't see much in the dark, but I could make out short hair and a smile.

"Hi." I replied hesitantly.

"We were worried you weren't going to wake at all." The boy told me, still staring intently at me.

"Where am I?" I asked him, and he seemed to frown at me.

"You're in the Hospital Wing. We managed to get you here easily enough from the Ministry." This only confused me even more.

"Why was I at the Ministry?" The boy hesitated.

"Hermione-"

"How do you know my name?" I asked him suddenly, and he paused again. He sat up on his bed and stared at me.

"Do you know who I am?" I stared intently at his face, but I didn't recognise him from anywhere, so I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you. Who are you?" He seemed worried by my response.

"My name's Ron." He said softly, waiting for some sort of response, but I just kept staring at him.

"I don't know a Ron." I told him quietly.

"Hermione, what's the last thing you remember?" I thought for a minute before answering.

"I was just about to go to my parents' surgery for lunch."

"What year is it?" The boy – Ron – asked me after a while.

"1991. Why?" Ron stared at me for a bit, before running his hand threw his hair.

"Hermione, it's 1996." I stared at him.

"What?"

"It's the 9th of June 1996." I laughed uneasily.

"You're kidding, right? Have I been in a coma for the past 5 years?" I was starting to panic. "Where are my parents?"

"Hermione-"

"Who are you? I don't know who you are!" I was yelling now, and other people around started to stir. A light came on and a woman ran towards them.

"Ms Granger! You're awake. Thank goodness, I was worried you wouldn't wake up. Are you in pain?" She was wearing a very odd outfit, making it look like she had stepped right out of the 1940s.

"Where am I?" I yelled at her, thoroughly confused.

"You're in the Hospital Wing. It's alright, you are back at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"What's that?" The woman stopped in her tracks, and looked to the boy who was still sat on his bed.

"Madame Pomfrey, she thinks that it's the year 1991. I think she has memory loss." The woman called Madame Pomfrey stared at the boy.

"Is that so? Well, don't worry, Ms Granger. I'm sure it'll come back to you soon enough. This sometimes happen when people are hit with this kind of spell." This confused me even more.

"Spell?"

"Yes, spell. You were hit with a very rare one, and it will take a while to recover. Thankfully you have finished all of your exams." She was babbling, and I wasn't listening. Where was this mad house?

"I want to see my parents." I told her.

"Now, now, Ms Granger. You will have to board the Hogwarts Express for that and return to London."

"But my parents don't live in London!" I exclaimed. "We live in Brighton!"

"Regardless, the train only goes to London." She seemed satisfied with me and walked towards the boy.

"Mr Weasley, you are healing nicely." I stared at the ceiling, trying to take it all in. The woman checked up on the other people in the beds before telling us all to be quiet and to go back to sleep. There was silence once more in the room, and I continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Hermione," the boy whispered, "Hermione, how old are you?" I stared at him.

"I'm 11." I whispered back. "But if what you say is true and it's the year 1996, then I must be 16." Ron nodded in the dark.

"You're 16 years old. I'm 15."

"Who are you to me?" I asked him.

"I'm one of your best friends. It's a long story. I'll tell it to you in the morning if you still want to know."

"I'd like that." I whispered back. We said goodnight, and I closed my eyes again, and tried to go to sleep. After a while Ron started to snore, and the noise sounded comforting to me. I tried to concentrate on the sound, but my mind was still whirring. I had a five-year gap in my memory, and it was worrying me, like it would any sane person.

When I opened my eyes again, I heard Ron's voice in the distance.

"Are you serious?" I heard a girl gasp. I closed my eyes again and lay still so as I could listen to them.

"Are you saying, " another voice, male this time, "that she has no recollection of anything that has happened these past 5 years?" I heard Ron acknowledge their fears, and someone whistled softly.

"I'm sorry," said a different male voice, "this is all my fault."

"Harry," the female voice piped up, "it's not your fault!"

"Yes it is!" The boy called Harry told the girl. "I dragged you guys into this. What if-" I heard him swallow, "what if one of you hadn't survived?" Silence fell over the group after this.

"Harry, I'm sorry about, you know…" She trailed off. This conversation was just confusing me even more, so I decided to 'wake up'.

"Hermione!" A boy looked up at me, and I assumed this was Harry. He had jet-black hair, and what looked like a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. "You're awake! Do you recognise me?" I shook my head, and winced as I tried to sit up. "How are you?" He looked really guilty.

"Did you do this to me?" Harry looked shocked, and shook his head.

"No, no. That was Dolohov. A Death Eater. He follows Voldemort. Um…" He frowned as he tried to explain it words that I would actually understand. "He's a bad man." He finished lamely. I nodded slowly, but my expression was one of complete confusion.

"Are you in pain?" The girl asked me.

"Only when I try and sit up." Madame Pomfrey decided to appear at that instant.

"Ah! Ms Granger, you're awake. I need you to listen closely. There are five potions here, and they need to be taken in order. I will of course be here to administer them to you, but I prefer it if the patient knows what I am doing. Now: this one is to be taken before you eat anything in the morning; this one is to be taken directly after breakfast. This one is to be taken just before lunch, and this one is to be taken just before dinner. This final one is very important, because you have to take it twice: once after lunch and once before you go to bed." I listened closely, and told her I'd understood. She made me repeat it back to her and take my first potion before she went on to look at Ron.

"Who are you?" I asked the redheaded girl.

"My name's Ginny."

"Are you related to Ron?" I asked, eyeing her freckles and the red hair, to which she laughed.

"Yes, I'm his younger sister." I smiled at her kind face.

"I'm Harry." I nodded in his direction.

"You know who I am." They smiled grimly at her.

"Do you really not remember anything?" The girl asked me, and I shook my head slowly.

"The last thing I remember is heading to my parents' surgery for lunch in July." I stared at the ceiling again. "Where am I?"

"You're at a boarding school called Hogwarts." Harry told me. "Hermione, you're a witch."

"I beg your pardon," I told him sharply, and he smiled.

"I don't mean that in a bad way. I mean you're an actual witch; you can use magic. See? We all have wands. Watch this: Wingardium Leviosa." He pointed his stick – sorry, wand – at the empty bed on the other side of mine, and I gasped. The bed was floating above the ground. As I watched, it rose higher and higher, and then from side to side. It only returned to the ground when Madame Pomfrey yelled at Harry to put it back. I stared with round eyes at the boy.

"Do it again!" I told him eagerly, and the girl laughed.

"Hey Hermione." The boy who had been sitting on Ron's other side finally came towards my bed. He looked really nervous: his round face wore a terrified expression, and his cheeks were red. "I'm guessing you don't know me either. My name's Neville." I smiled at him.

"Hi Neville."

"Right, that's you two dealt with. Mr Potter, if I see you levitating anymore beds I will ban you from the Hospital Wing." Madame Pomfrey gave the boy one last stern look before walking to the other side of the room where a woman was lying very still in a bed.

"Who's that?" I asked them.

"That's Umbridge. She was a professor here."

"Was?"

"It's a very long story." Harry smiled a small smile at Ginny, and she looked down at me.

"I've got all day." I told them, and Harry sighed.

"I'll tell her." Ron piped up, getting out of his bed. "I promised her I would." Harry


	2. Chapter 2: Five Years of Fun

**It has been a while... Sorry guys, I'm going to try and upload more frequently. I should have had the first five chapters written before uploading the first one, but I was too impatient. Sorry. I have the third one nearly ready, so hopefully it'll be up this week, if not tomorrow. Thanks for the support!**

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Chapter 2: Five Years of Fun

"We met on the train ride here," Ron told me as he sat on a chair beside my bed. The others were seated all around me, listening to the boy speak, "you were really bossy and showed us up. You already knew a few spells and your textbooks off by heart. We didn't really speak for a few months, you didn't approve of what Harry and I did because we had no regards for the rules. On Halloween, you showed me up in class and I said mean things about you."

"What did you say?" I asked him: I wanted to know every little detail.

"I said that it was no wonder that you didn't have any friends." Those words seemed to hurt me, and the boy looked as though he regretted those words, even four years later.

"What happened?"

"You ran past me, crying. You then didn't appear at the feast that evening, and we heard Parvati – another one of our classmates – telling her friend Lavender that you had been crying in the girls' bathroom all day. I felt really bad, obviously, but then Professor Quirrell – I'll get to him in a minute – runs into the Great Hall screaming about a troll in the dungeons. Everybody starts to panic, obviously, and then Dumbledore – he's the headmaster – took control of the situation and ordered us to our dorms. Harry then pulled me aside and reminded me that you weren't at the feast and therefore didn't know about the troll. We decided to sneak off and find you, and it's a good thing we did because the troll had found you."

"How big was the troll?" I asked, amazed.

"About 10 feet. Trolls get a lot bigger than that, but it was still huge, especially to tiny 11 year olds." Harry grinned at the memory. "Anyway, so we manage to defeat the troll by knocking it out with its own club and Harry stuck his wand up its nose." I laughed.

"Seriously? Up its nose? Didn't you get loads of troll bogeys?" Harry laughed, and Ron joined in.

"It was horrible. I wiped it on the troll's shorts." I laughed, but found that that hurt me, so I tried to control it.

"What happened next? Did we get in trouble?" Ron smiled.

"Some professors ran in because of the noise. I can't remember exactly who was there, but I know McGonagall and Snape were."

"Quirrell was there as well." Harry told him.

"McGonagall started shouting at Harry and me and we were convinced we were about to be expelled, but then you piped up and took the blame for it." I goggled at him.

"You mean I lied to a teacher?" Ron laughed.

"That you did. Trust me, Harry and I were just as amazed. And that's how we became friends." I smiled.

"It sounds like something out of a story book."

"Well it is full of trolls and wizards. I couldn't believe it when Hagrid told me I was a wizard."

"I still can't." I told him, laying back into my pillows. "What happened after that?" Ron continued with his story. He told me about the philosopher's stone, and about how we thought that Snape was trying to steal it. I listened in awe as he recounted how we snuck out at night under the invisibility cloak, how I petrified a classmate, and got past a 3 headed dog. I closed my eyes and listened to his voice. It was southing, as though I had heard it before, it was familiar to me. Ron told me in detail the different levels to get to the stone and how he's found it. How it was Quirrell – not Snape – who wanted the stone for Voldemort. Ron spoke for hours, telling me all about our five years together. He told me about my cat, Crookshanks, and how even though he'd hated him before, had a soft spot for him now. When he had finished, I opened my eyes again.

"I can't remember any of that." I whispered. "It sounds like we had so many adventures, so many memories. And I can't remember any of them." I started to cry, and Ginny put her arm on my shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll get your memory back, Hermione." She told me gently. I smiled a small smile at her.

"But what if I can't?" I asked her, and she smiled.

"Then we'll just have to make some new memories." I smiled again, her words reassuring me.

"You three have been here long enough!" Madame Pomfrey had appeared again, and she shooed all but Ron out of the room. The latter returned to his bed, where she looked him over.

"What happened to your arms?" I asked him.

"Didn't I tell you?" I shook my head. "I got attacked by some brains." He saw that I looked puzzled, and he shrugged. "I don't really know either. They have some weird stuff in there. Well, they had some weird stuff, most of it's been destroyed…" He trailed off and looked at me again. Madame Pomfrey seemed satisfied and went back to my bedside.

"Ms Granger, please, it's time for your medicine." She administered some weird purple liquid. I choked as I swallowed it. It burned my mouth and throat, and I coughed. Madame Pomfrey fetched me a glass of water to help, and it eased the pain, leaving for her office once I had finished the water.

"I'm sorry this happened." He told me once she left.

"It's not your fault. I wanted to go, and there was probably nothing you could say to stop me." Ron grinned.

"That's true. I just hope you get your memory back soon." I smiled and lay back down on my bed.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about our lessons. What the professors are like, what we learn. Please?" Ron agreed and I closed my eyes. I don't know when exactly I fell asleep, but when I awoke, it was night time and Ron's snores echoed around the room. I looked at the outline of the boy and felt a pang of guilt. He obviously cared, as did the others, and yet they meant nothing to me anymore, I had no memory of them. The guilt washed over me, consuming my every thought. I lay awake for some time, staring at Ron and listening to his snores, before I closed my eyes and slept once more.

The next few weeks were made up of me going through some books. I found that I still remembered the spells and potions. Harry and Ron managed to rustle up some books from the previous four years. Madame Pomfrey kept me in the hospital wing for a few more days, and when she finally released me she made me promise to check in everyday and take the potions. I spent my time in the library, discovering the world that I had found myself in. Everything I read felt familiar to me, and I knew that I had read it before, long ago. Ron and Harry showed me the books that I had really liked, and I spent hours in there. I felt bad for Ron and Harry, and I tried to spend as much time as I could with them as well. They told me stories and jokes, and Ron showed me how to play wizard chess. This frustrated me as I never won, and Ron smiled, and told me that it was healthy for me. Although it did annoy me, I did laugh, knowing he was right. If I wasn't in the library or with the others in the common room, I was exploring the castle. Ron showed me every classroom and the classes that were held within, and Harry told me about the professors. He also pointed them out to me when we saw them. During that week, I was told everything that I had lost. Part of me loved hearing the stories, especially when they told me of all of the rules that I broke, but the other part of ached at the thought that I had lived through it all. It broke my heart to think I may never get back these past five years.


	3. Chapter 3: Summer

Chapter 3: Summer

By the end of the second week, it was time to go home. I attended the feast, relishing in the beauty of the Great Hall for the last time, and all too soon it was time to go home. I was anxious to see my parents again; I needed to see some faces that I knew. The train ride was fun, and I enjoyed watching the Scottish countryside fly past as the train sped south. It was over all too quickly. I was saying goodbye to Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and many others who knew me but I no longer knew. Then I saw my parents. They were stood talking to a plump woman with red hair that I assumed must be Mrs Weasley. The two women seemed to be angry at each other.

"Hermione!" My mother yelled out, and she rushed to greet me.

"Mum!" I cried back, and hugged her so tightly.

"I'm so glad you're here! We just got the owl yesterday, and we were outraged that they told us that you had to stay until today and come home with the rest. Are you hurt?" I shook my head and told her no, but she spoke over me. "I can't believe the security at that school! It's terrible! If students can just fly out and to London without anyone seeing! The nerve! As for you!" She turned to Harry and Ron who were stood talking to Mrs Weasley. "How dare you drag my daughter into your mess! Look at her! She has no memory of the past five years because you had to break the rules! You are a bad influence on our daughter. Before she met you, she never broke the rules, she always obeyed no matter what and you have corrupted her! Why, only in her first year did you nearly get her killed! And then she was petrified, and against a werewolf! You have corrupted our daughter and I will have no more of it!"

"Now listen here!" Mrs Weasley spoke up. "My son has not forced your daughter into any business. Anything that happened has been done through her own free will. Harry and Ron may break the rules, but they do so with a purpose; they try to do what's right. Your daughter has a very strong sense of what is wrong and what is right, therefore when she breaks the rules it is because she is trying to do what is right. Although I understand that you are suffering due to her loss of memory, there is no one to blame here but the person who inflicted it on her: Dolohov. My son and Harry have done everything they can to save her. In their first year they knocked out a 10 foot mountain troll to save her. In their second year, they defeated a basilisk because she had been petrified and to save my daughter. I understand that you are searching for someone to blame, but Harry and Ron are not those people, and I will not let you stand there and blame them." Mum was staring at Mrs Weasley in shock, but quickly regained herself.

"Come, Hermione." She grabbed my arm and dragged me away, my father pushing my trolley behind us. "I don't want you communicating with those boys again, do you hear me? No owls, no phone calls, no meeting up, nothing, do you understand?"

"But-"

"Do you understand?" She was basically yelling at me now, and I bowed my head. "I just want what's best for you, dear, and those boys are not good for you. I have half a mind not to let you go back to that school after this."

"Oh please let me go back!" I begged her. "Please! I want to go back! I looked through the books and I remembered all of the spells! I also want to explore the castle again, it is stunning!"

"Hermione-"

"Mother, please!" I only called her mother on very few occasions, when something really meant a great deal to me, and she sighed.

"We'll see how your memory's doing. We'll discuss it in August when your letter comes." And that was the end of it. I sat in the backseat of the car in silence. No one spoke, and the two hour drive to Brighton was icy. I was glad to see the old house again, glad to see that nothing had changed here at least. My room was not how I remembered it, though. On the wall were posters of Gryffindor banners, and photos of Ron, Harry, and me. Others had Ginny, as well as many other people whose face I recognised vaguely, but for who I had no name. Dinner was spent in silence also, and I was relieved when I finally went to bed. As I lay in my single bed, looking at the ceiling, my thoughts wandered back to the castle I had left that morning. I felt bad for my parents; I realised that they were going through a lot, but I knew that the only way to get my memory back would be to go back to that castle and face everyone again. I closed my eyes and curled up on one side.

I wish that I could say that I slept soundly, but I was plagued with nightmares the whole way through. Blurred images swarmed through my head. In one my heart was pounding as I stood on what seemed to be a giant chessboard, or riding through the skies on thin air. These images chased me through the night, and when I awoke, panting and sweaty, it was daybreak. I wrapped up in a dressing gown and crept into the garden to watch the sun come up. I sat on our old swing set and tried to remember what I had dreamt, but they had gone as quickly as they had come. A solitary tear fell from my eyes. My memories were in there: it was just a matter of unlocking them again.

"Hermione?" It was my father. He stood in the doorway, a worried expression on his face. He was also in a dressing gown. "You couldn't sleep?" He sat on the swing next to mine.

"I woke up a minute ago. I dreamt of things."

"Memories?" I shrugged.

"Either that or things I made up from what Ron and Harry told me."

"You'll get your memory back." I smiled at him.

"You won't let Mum stop me from going back to school, would you?" Dad sighed.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back in your state."

"But I can't go back to a muggle school! I'm behind on everything!"

"I know, Hermione, but I think this was the final straw for your mother. She's been getting letters since your first year about the things you've been getting yourself into. We're worried. Every year you've come back with something."

"Harry and Ron aren't bad." Dad gave me a pitying look.

"Your mother thinks that they're using you."

"Only for work." I grinned, and gasped.

"What?"

"I just remembered something." It was of little importance, really: the memory was just one of the three of us sat in the common room working. I had taken Ron's essay from him to help him with it.

"What is it?"

"Nothing important. I was just helping Ron with his homework."

"This is what we mean. We realise that you like hanging out with them, and we realise that you have feelings for Ron-"

"I have what?" I stared wide-eyed, and my father looked at me.

"Oh. Didn't you remember that?" I shook me head. "Well, your mother and I have thought that there was more between you two for a while. When you dated that Krum fellow in your fourth year and you told us how Ron had been very jealous, we knew that there was more there." I blushed furiously.

"He told me we were just friends."

"Well, you didn't tell him what you felt, just like he never told you. It took a lot of convincing to let you hang out at his house all of the time. Your mother thinks he's taking advantage of you."

"I'm older than they are. Besides, she taught me to be strong."

"I know, as does your mother. It's just that we worry, Hermione. We worry because we don't want to see you hurt. We just want what's right." We sat on the swings for hours in silence, watching the sky burst into flames as the sun exposed itself to the new day.


	4. Chapter 4: Home

Chapter 4: Home

Dad and I sat there until he had to start getting ready for work. I stayed out in the garden, looking around at the grass and trees, noticing plants that hadn't been there before: snapdragons and lilies sat where there used to be nothing. Roses grew up the wall that separated our garden from our neighbour's. I marvelled in the colour of the plants before going inside to bid my parents goodbye. Mum had wanted to stay with me, but I told her there was no need: I wasn't ill, and I didn't want her to use one of her days off for nothing. She reluctantly left with my dad to go to their surgery in town, and I went to get dressed. I noticed that the bathroom had been redone, and for a second I thought I had got the wrong room: instead of the white walls and dark floor, the room now had teal coloured walls and a moss green floor. I looked around it, taking it in and updating my memory. I made a mental note to ask my parents when this had been done, and then climbed into the shower. Half an hour later I walked out of the front door into the sunshine. Although I had told my parents that I would stay home, I needed to see what else had changed in my neighbourhood since I had left for Hogwarts. My first stop was the park down the road from us. I was glad to see that it was still there with its swing set, tire swing, slide, and climbing frame. It was reassuring to see that not everything had changed. I pressed on towards the centre of town. A lot of tourists bumped into me, speaking French, Spanish, Italian, Czech, Japanese, Korean and many more that I didn't recognise. The walk to town was the same, although some shops had changed hands. As I walked, I stared hard at every single thing I saw, trying to jog my memory, but nothing came back to me. By the time I'd reached the centre it was lunchtime. I bought a sandwich and went to sit on the beach. Tourists walked around me, and I watched as people splashed in and out of the sea. I smiled at the kids having fun, and the dogs running around. I remembered when I was a kid, my parents took me here with my grandparents to have picnics, swim, and just generally enjoy the summer sun, exactly as these families were doing. The remains of the West Pier loomed in the distance, while the Palace Pier was full of life: two polar opposites. I couldn't help but think that one day the Palace Pier would end up like the other. Pushing the sad thoughts out of my head, I got up and went back towards the centre. I walked through the Lanes, taking my time through the small streets, marvelling at the beauty of the rings and necklaces in the window. As I took a left turn, the scene before me shifted and I saw people dressed in long cloaks and pointed hats. All around me were stores that sold various strange items such as broomsticks, potions, weird books, and wands. A giant white marble building loomed in the distance.

"Are you alright, Miss?" I was lying on the ground, and a group of people were surrounding me, looking worried.

"I'm fine," I got up hastily, brushed myself off and walked away briskly from the crowd of concerned onlookers. I had obviously fainted, but that wasn't what bothered me. I had remembered a street, a street that did not belong in the muggle world: a small cobbled street for wizards. My heart raced at the thought that I had remembered something, and more came back to me: I didn't know how I knew it, but I knew that the white building was Gringotts bank, and that the shop that sold the wands was Olivander's. I set out for the Pavilion and sat in the gardens. Taking out a sketchpad and some pencils, I set about drawing the street that I had just envisioned. I worked at the drawing for an hour or so, trying to capture the memory as best I could. My drawing skills had never been brilliant, but it was good enough, and I was actually surprised as to how it turned out. I had obviously improved my drawing skills in the past 5 years. I then wrote on the back of the page the date and hour that I had remembered it, and suddenly realised that I would be late home. Panicking, I picked up my things and dashed out. I decided to take the bus this time, and only just arrived home five minutes before my parents walked through the door.

"Hello, Hermione," my mother said, kissing me on the forehead.

"How was your day?" My father asked as he hung up his coat.

"I remembered something." I told them eagerly, and my mother's face lit up.

"What was it?"

"It was a street. I can't remember where it is, or how to get to it, but I remembered a cobbled street with loads of weird shops."

"Maybe it was the Lanes?" Mum looked hopeful.

"No, it was full of wizards. There were shops such as Olivander's and Florean's ice cream, and Gringotts bank." My mother's face seemed to fall slightly, but she recovered quickly.

"That's fantastic!"

"That's Diagon Alley." My father told me. "That's where we go to find your school books. Maybe we could visit there, see if it jogs anymore memories."

"Could we?" I asked, my hopes rising dramatically.

"No. It's too far away to do that." Mum hastily changed the subject. "What did you get up to today?"

"I just read some more books." She seemed pleased at my response, and went about discussing their day at the surgery. Dad saw right through me, though. He had always been able to tell when I was lying. He said nothing, though, and helped my mother prepare dinner, while I sat listening to them. They asked no more questions about my day, until Dad and I were charged with the washing up while my mother spoke to her friend on the phone.

"So what did you get up to really?" He asked me in a hushed voice.

"I went into town."

"Where did you go?"

"Just to town. I bought a sandwich and ate on the beach. It's nice to be back, considering the last thing I remember was in 1991. I also like looking at the Lanes and the new shops that have opened." My dad smiled.

"A couple of years ago you started going into town everyday we worked and sitting in the Pavilion gardens. You used to say that it was peaceful for you. You liked to sketch what you saw, whether it was s squirrel or just the Pavilion itself."

"I went there today. I sketched the street that I remembered." My dad nodded.

"Make sure you write down the name of that street. I think we have the letters that you received from Hogwarts somewhere. They might be in a box in your room." I told him I'd have a look, just as Mum re-entered the kitchen.

"Jill just had an accident at work and has a sprained wrist. She's going to be alright, though. Are you two ok?" We both told her that we were, and said that we wished Jill a speedy recovery.

When I went upstairs that evening, I looked under my bed and found a box there that I had no memory of. I stared at it for a few minutes, worried at what I might find within. Eventually, after what felt like forever, I opened it. My eyes widened as I saw a huge pile of letters of varying shapes and colours. All had been written with a quill, and I just stared at all of the envelopes, deciding which one to open first. I decided on a letter that was all the way at the bottom whose address had been written in bright green ink. I opened it slowly and began to read.


End file.
